Tryptophan
by GoddessofSnark
Summary: Thanksgiving dinner...the tryptophan is going to her head, or is that the wine? GJ.


A/N-This is a fluffy little thing that sprang to my head while cooking thanksgiving dinner...Garret just jumped up and told me he was going to invite Jordan over for turkey day...I don't own either of them, or Shaw's market's premade thanksgiving dinners...if you can read a box you can have thanksgiving dinner...

* * *

"Where did you learn to cook like that?" I leaned back in my chair, not wanting to get up. I just wanted to lapse into a tryptophan induced coma. He shrugged.

"The only thing Maggie was good at making for dinner was reservations." I laughed, and downed more of the glass of wine in front of me. This was fun. It was good. It beat spending another holiday alone.

He just invited me over for the same reason. He didn't want to be alone. He offered to cook. I was more than willing to take him up on the offer. And he wasn't bad at cooking either. Not exactly Emril, but not a bad cook at all. "Dinner was-" I started.

"Out of a box." He finished and I laughed again. "I never said I was gourmet. But I can at least follow directions. Thank god for Shaw's prepackaged dinners." He got up and walked over to the couch. I followed him, sitting down and curling against him, half paying attention to the game.

I didn't doubt him when he said that his ex wife was no good at cooking. I had to wonder what he saw in her to begin with. She was pretty-hell, drop dead gorgeous would apply, but that was about all she had. She was somewhat intelligent, I'll give her that much, and if you weren't on her bad side, actually pretty likeable.

But it was obvious that she was not the type that wanted to settle down. He had been a fool to ask her to marry him; he had to have known what he was getting into. Or he had been a fool who thought that he could try and tame her. It's the one thing that I hate about Woody, he thinks that he came tame me, get me to settle down. I'm not that kind of a woman.

I just don't want to settle down. I mean, I do, but I'm afraid of it. I know I'm afraid of commitment, of loving someone just to risk them leaving you. It's why I trust him so much. I can trust Garret. I know he's not going to leave me any time soon. I blink at the realization. Did my mind just wander where I think it did?

I fight the thoughts from my head. It's just something brought on by the combination of tryptophan and too much wine. That's all. I focus back on the game. Nothing I'm interested in though, I really don't care that the Cowboys are beating the crap out of the Eagles. But it's something to stop my mind from wandering.

The next thing I know, there's a sharp pain in my neck, and the channel has been changed to something else. He switches it off guiltily as I catch a quick glimpse of Danny Bonaduce cross the screen. I chuckle and try to sit up, wincing at the crick in my neck. "Have a nice nap?" He asks with a smirk on his face and I nod, wincing again. "Apparently I don't make a good pillow." His hands reach out and grasp my shoulders, his thumbs digging into my flesh, working out the knots in the muscle.

I sigh contentedly and lean back against him. "You have too many hidden talents, you know that?" I ask him and he laughs, keeping his hands going. It feels heavenly. He chuckles again and I realize that I said that out loud. He starts to pull his hands away as the knotted muscle in my neck stops hurting but I glare at him and he keeps going. "If I had known that you were this good at this I'd have saved myself money at the spa." He grins at me and I grin back.

This isn't that bad, I can get used to it. He nods and I realize that my mind and mouth have less a filter between them than usual. "Damn turkey. Or rather, damn tryptophan." He laughs and I lean back down against him. "How can anyone stay away from neck rubs that good?" I ask and he shrugs.

I can certainly see what Maggie saw in him, neck rubs, he can cook, and he's not bad looking. There's something about him that makes him attractive, he's not good looking, not like Woody, but he's got something going for him. And he does have one of the nicest asses I've ever seen.

I blink again, realizing where my thoughts went to again. He's got his arm around my waist, holding me close while we sit there, watching television. We look the piece of domestic bliss. I'm cuddled up against him. He's just so soft, so warm, so safe. But it's not like he'd want this.

He doesn't believe in dating coworkers. He complained about it with Lily, he even complained about it with Rene, with both of winding up being involved with the same cases. He'd never go after me, he'd tell me no. And I know it's not because of me-I let him loose on an ex boyfriend and I knew that what he was saying, how he was extolling my virtues, that he meant every word of it. But he'd never want a real relationship, we're best friends, that's all.

That's what we've been. We just click on that different level, that higher level that only best friends do. That only soul mates do. The ability to just look at one another and know what the other one is thinking. It's not good to think about it, not good to realize that I'm looking at my best friend in a totally different light. Not good to realize that I might be attracted to him.

I'm not supposed to be attracted to him. He's supposed to be stuck in that best friends spot forever. Where I compare every other man to him but never want him. Only that's not working anymore. It's the damn tryptophan, messing with my brain.

He looks down at me and I look up at him, and for a second all I want to do is kiss him. There's something funny in his eyes and I write it off as sleep. I don't know if he spent the same time I did napping, but if he didn't, the turkey has to be getting to him. That and the wine.

He looks away quickly and I look back at the TV. I look back up at him though, my eyes resting on his lips. I notice his eyes straying down to me again and I smile. This is my chance, now or never. It can't hurt, can it? The only thing he can say is no, the only thing he can tell me is that he doesn't want this. I lean up and kiss him. He sits there stunned for a minute before pulling back.

"Jordan-" He begins and I look at him. I knew this was going to happen. I knew he was going to say no, that he was going to tell me that he didn't do this, he didn't kiss his coworkers.

But I'm shocked by his lips on mine. I part my lips easily to an exploratory tongue. He tastes of turkey and wine. And he's got a tang that's entirely his own. This time I pull back, breathless, and we look at each other. "This isn't a good idea-" He starts and I shrug, kissing him again.

"For once, put your damn inhibitions aside." I tell him, and he kisses me again. He leans me down against the cushions and I work my hands up his shirt.

"This is an even worse idea." He says, kissing me again. I look up at him with all seriousness in my eyes. "I mean, if we stay here, you might wind up with another kink in your neck." There's a laughing light in his eyes and I kiss him hard.

"You'll just have to work it out then." I whisper and he grins.

"A bed would solve all of that." He suggests, and I kiss him again.

"I take back everything I said. Tryptophan does have its uses."


End file.
